Consequences of Choice
by WinterComet
Summary: Slightly AU DMC. Elizabeth suffered more than what we saw at the hands of Beckett. How will that affect her relationship with Will, and what will Jack have to say?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Pirates of the Caribbean.

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The gaols at Fort Charles were cold and dank, especially at night. The cells stank with the smell of stagnant water, urine, and unwashed bodies. Those unwashed bodies were currently pressing themselves against the iron bars of their shared cell, desperately reaching for the only washed body in the prison. She, on the other hand, was sitting as far away from them as she could, and shivering with cold and fear.

"Lord" Cutler Beckett had interrupted Elizabeth Swann's marriage, and now her fiancé, Will, was on a potentially fruitless search for Captain Jack Sparrow and his compass. Elizabeth was forced to stay behind and suffer the…pleasures…of Beckett himself. If Will knew, or even her father… she sighed. It wouldn't matter anyways, her father no longer had any authority.

Her musings were disturbed by the sound of boots stomping down the stone stairs. _Was it that time already?_ Of course it was. The only time Naval guards came down to the cells was to bring food, or bring up a prisoner, and dinner – such as it was – had already been served. Sure enough, two guards arrived at her cell door. One trained his musket's bayonet on Elizabeth while the other opened the door. As with every time before this, Elizabeth turned her gaze to the stone wall she was leaning against. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the guards roll his eyes at the other and enter her cell. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the cell.

Thankfully for her shins, Elizabeth's wedding dress protected her legs from the stairs as her unresisting legs hit each and every step. It was a routine that had been repeated every night in the last six days since Will had left her in her cell. From the cells the guards would drag her to Beckett's quarters in the Fort. Once there, she would suffer Beckett's pleasures until he was satisfied. He would ask questions regarding Jack's whereabouts, which she honestly didn't know, have Mr. Mercer beat her for the answers, then send her back to her cell. Elizabeth was sure this would be no different.

As the doors to Beckett's quarters were thrown open, Elizabeth adopted as blank a face as she could manage. Beckett terrified her, but there was no way she was going to let him know that if she could help it. The blank face was gone as she registered a familiar figure in the room.

"Father!" She gasped in shock. Elizabeth tried to run to him, but the two guards halted her progress.

"I don't think so, Miss Swann," Beckett said as he stepped from the shadows beside the fireplace. "Your father is not here to give comfort."

"Then why is he here? I rather doubt it's to witness your normal routine," Elizabeth said sarcastically.

Beckett looked amused, "Hardly. You see, your father is here to witness either a very happy event, or a rather upsetting one, depending on you."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, "Me?"

"You have two options, Miss Swann. The first option will ensure you a life as you've always know it. A life of luxury." Beckett turned to face the fireplace, "The second option will have decidedly less pleasurable outcomes."

Elizabeth was skeptical, "Meaning?"

Beckett spun around to face her, "Your eventual death, Miss Swann."

"Elizabeth, I beg you, just listen to Lord Beckett's proposal." Governor Swann pleaded.

"Proposal," Elizabeth looked suspiciously from her father to Beckett, "Surely you don't mean –"

"Yes, Miss Swann," Beckett interrupted with a triumphant smile. "I asked for, and received, your father's permission for your hand in marriage, so long as these," he held up the arrest papers, "were dropped."

"You must be joking," Elizabeth spat, "In case you have somehow forgotten, I'm already engaged to Will!"

"Mr. Turner is not here to protect you, nor is he likely to be," her father said with some asperity, "Mr. Sparrow is not going to help anyone but himself, he is a pirate after all. And I sincerely doubt Mr. Turner will return without the compass."

Elizabeth stared in stunned silence at her father, "Did you even try to get to know Will this past year, father? He's a better man than you give him credit for. So is Jack, for that matter." She turned her gaze to glare insolently at Beckett, "What is my second option?"

He smiled at her sadistically, "You will be branded as a pirate and hung within the week."

It took Elizabeth no time at all to make her decision. "Thank you. But I would rather hang as a pirate than spend even a second as your wife." Beckett blinked in confusion. His stunned face told Elizabeth that he had not expected her negative answer.

"Elizabeth," her father protested, "please be reasonable. There is no need for you to die for a blacksmith and a pirate."

"I wouldn't be dying for a blacksmith, nor a pirate. I would be dying for my dignity. What?" she spat out at Beckett, unable to contain her hatred, "Did you really think I would voluntarily marry my rapist?"

"Rapist? What?" Her father looked so confused.

"Oh. He didn't tell you?" She hated to do this to her father, but he needed to know, "Ever since Will left, Beckett has been forcing me into his bed."

Governor Swann sputtered in indignation, "He most certainly did not! Elizabeth," he turned to look into her eyes, "you must know I would never have given my blessing if I had known." He turned to Beckett, "How dare you?" He shouted.

Beckett rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Mr. Mercer came out of the shadows to hold a pistol against Governor Swann's head, "Kindly be silent Mr. Swann, your input is no longer needed." Beckett continued to stare at Elizabeth, "Is that truly your decision?"

Elizabeth raised her head in defiance, "It is."

This time, his smile was cold, "So be it." He addressed Elizabeth's guards, "Hold her."

Their grip on Elizabeth's shoulders tightened as Beckett grabbed something out of the fire. It was a long iron rod with a red-hot "P" at the end. Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face, and she swayed on her feet a little bit. There was an eager look on Beckett's face, and she realized that he looked forward to the pain he was going to inflict on her person. In that moment, she vowed not to make a sound when he branded her. She wouldn't beg, plead, cry, or struggle when the time came, which was now.

Ever so slowly, the glowing "P" came down towards her arm. It stopped a hair's breadth from her skin. She could feel the penetrating heat of the iron, and could smell the small hairs on her arm burning from it. Distantly, she could hear her father pleading with Beckett not to do this, not to resign her to a death sentence. Grimly, she met Beckett's eyes as he pressed the branding iron against her arm.

It felt cold at first, an icy flash that was followed immediately by an intense heat that drowned out all feeling. All her senses zeroed in on the mind-numbing pain that seared through her small frame. Instinctively, Elizabeth's body tried to escape the pain, and her body pressed backwards against the soldiers that held her in place. A roaring sound filled her ears, followed by the feeling that she was underwater. Her knees threatened to give out, but she stubbornly locked them in place. Her wide eyes continued to meet Beckett's as he held the iron to her skin. It felt like hours had passed since the pain had started, but it had only been around five seconds. Finally, Beckett pulled the iron away, and she could breathe again.

After a few more seconds, Elizabeth's senses returned to her. She could smell the sickeningly sweet smell of burnt flesh in the air, and could see smoke rising from her throbbing arm. The sound of her own heavy breathing was joined by the quiet sobs of her father. When she tasted copper in her mouth, Elizabeth realized that she had bitten her lip in order to stay silent.

Beckett was also breathing heavily, she realized. He was staring at her with a curious mix of anger and amazement. "Only one other man has managed to not scream when I branded him," he muttered as he continued to stare at Elizabeth.

"Anyone I know?" She rasped out in question.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, you do." He stared off into the distance, reliving some not-so-forgotten memory. Beckett visibly came back to himself, "It was Jack Sparrow."

Something in Elizabeth snapped, and she started laughing uncontrollably. She was laughing so hard that she started crying.

Disturbed by her laughter, Beckett backhanded Elizabeth, ignoring the protests of her father, "Why are you laughing, wench?"

Her laughing slowed enough for her to answer, "If I had to pick someone to emulate after being branded a pirate, I couldn't have picked anyone better than _Captain_ Jack Sparrow!"

Beckett's face turned red with fury and hatred, and he could no longer control himself. He punched her in the jaw, the stomach, and the ribs, hitting her all over her body until his anger wore itself out. Elizabeth was barely conscious, but was able to keep a bloody grin on her face as he yelled for the guards to take her back to her cell.

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Reviews are welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Once again, I own nothing.

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Elizabeth didn't remember much of the trip back to her cell. When she woke up, it was still dark outside. A loud groan escaped her lips as she forced herself up into a sitting position. The guards had tossed her on the straw-covered stone floor, right in a puddle of something nasty; she was sure she didn't want to know what it was. Gingerly, Elizabeth dragged her battered and bruised body to the stone bench in the cell.

Once there, she laid back against the cell wall and took stock. Despite the pain of the split lip and sore stomach, nothing seemed to be broken. _Thank God_ , she thought, as tears fell silently from her eyes. The horrors of the evening came back to her. At first, it seemed like a bad dream. But the throbbing of her right forearm put paid to that thought.

The wound was red around the edges, and beginning to ooze in places along the "P". Curing incompetent men who left her without care, Elizabeth looked for something with which to bandage it. There was nothing around her, and she resigned herself to tearing a strip off her wedding dress. Though her right arm was weak and shaky, Elizabeth managed to tear a long strip from the hem of her petticoat. Awkwardly, she held one end of the strip with her right hand, and began to wrap the other end around her wrist. She wrapped until she ran out of petticoat, and tucked the end neatly into the bandage. The make-shift bandage now went from Elizabeth's wrist to just under her elbow.

Satisfied with her work, Elizabeth leaned against the stone wall of her cell, and tried to rest a little. Unfortunately, by that point the unruly crowd of common criminals next door had realized that she was awake and alert. As they had earlier, calls for her to come closer and lewd cat-calls rang out through the cells. _This hanging can't come fast enough_ , she thought bitterly.

The sounds of guards coming down the stairs distracted her. _Twice in one night_? She groaned inwardly and let her head fall back against the wall. _Of course, he hasn't had you yet. Can't expect him to forget about that just because he's angry_. Once more, Elizabeth set herself to look disinterested. It became apparent rather quickly, however, that the guard at the cell door was not her normal escort.

The guard opened the cell door and stepped aside for her father. "Come quickly." Elizabeth nodded quickly and stumbled to her feet. She and Governor Swann made their way quickly up the stairs and walked down a torch-lit corridor.

"Tell me what is happening," Elizabeth gasped as she strove to keep up with her father's fast pace.

"Our name still has some standing with the King. I've arranged passage to England. The captain is a friend of mine –"

"No!" Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, "Will's gone to find Jack!"

Governor Swann grabbed her left elbow and continued walking, "He won't be back in time. And Beckett has offered one pardon only, one. And that pardon is for Jack Sparrow. You are a branded pirate." He stopped at the doorway to the prison and stared sadly into Elizabeth's eyes, "Do not ask me to endure the sight of my daughter walking to the gallows. Do not!" He and Elizabeth walked swiftly down the steps to the carriage. Governor Swann opened the door and helped his daughter in, "Perhaps I can ensure a fair trial for Will if he returns."

Pain filled Elizabeth's face as she said through gritted teeth, "A fair trial for Will ends in a hanging."

Governor Swann's own face was grim as he replied, "Then there's nothing for you here." And he slammed the door to the carriage shut.

The ride from Fort Charles to the docks was quick, and Elizabeth had no time to ponder over what she was going to do to let Will know where she was going. All too soon, she heard her father yelling "Whoa!" to the horses. She heard him tell her to wait inside the carriage, and made a quick decision. She was going to find Will.

Quickly, she slipped out the right side door of the carriage and faded into the shadows of a nearby alleyway. Elizabeth watched in horror as Mercer shoved her father into the side of the carriage. Mouthing a "Sorry" towards her father, Elizabeth turned and ran back up the hill to Fort Charles, and Beckett's quarters.

It was a ten minute journey on foot, made all the more difficult by the necessity of avoiding the night watchmen. Finally, she made it to Beckett's quarters. A quick glance in the window showed that he wasn't inside. The ocean-side door was open, so she slipped inside. A previous trip to Beckett's rooms had told her where the pardon papers where. She grabbed them, and a pistol that had been laying carelessly on a side table. After making sure the gun was loaded (it was), Elizabeth hid in the doorway leading to his bedroom.

Elizabeth didn't have to wait long before she saw Beckett come in from the very same door she had entered not five minutes previously. She watched as he set the lantern and letter he was holding down on his desk and open his EITC letter box.

"No doubt you've discovered that loyalty is no longer the currency of the realm, as your father believes." He spoke without turning around. It scared her to know that he knew she was there without looking.

Putting on a defiant, angry face – which was no small trouble – she stepped out from the shadows, "Then what is?"

Beckett turned around, "I'm afraid currency, is the currency of the realm."

Gathering her courage, Elizabeth walked forward, her hands behind her back. "I expect then, that we can come to some sort of understanding." He came up to meet her halfway, and she continued, "I'm here to negotiate."

"I'm listening," Beckett said condescendingly. Elizabeth's left hand came up, her pistol pointed right in-between Beckett's eyes. His tone became slightly more serious, "I'm listening _intently_."

Elizabeth smirked at him and held up the pardon papers in her right hand, "These Letters of Marque, they are signed by the King?"

Beckett smirked right back at her, "Yes, and they're not valid until they bear my signature and my seal."

"Or else I would not still be here," she said. Elizabeth pressed the pistol into the underside of Beckett's chin, "Consider, before you try to get out of this, that you robbed me of both my wedding night and my virtue."

"So I did," Beckett turned towards his desk with another small, satisfied smirk. "A marriage interrupted," he scratched his signature onto the document, "or fate intervenes." He melted a wax stick, smeared it on the papers, and pressed his signet ring into the wax. "You're making great efforts to ensure Jack Sparrow's freedom."

Elizabeth reached out to grab the papers from Beckett, "These aren't for Jack."

"Oh really?" He held onto the papers as well, "To ensure Mr. Turner's freedom then?" Beckett stared intently at her, "I'll still want that compass, or the chest it leads to." He released the letters.

Somewhat confused that he was letting her go so readily, but not willing to question it, Elizabeth slowly backed out of the door and ran off. She skirted around the corner of the resident quarters, saw no guards, and took off for the docks.

There were four ships docked in the harbor. Two were the ships that had brought Beckett and his men. Another was a sloop whose deckhands were unloading cargo onto the docks. The last one was a small merchant vessel, and it looked to Elizabeth to be the closest to leaving. She took a step towards it, and then stopped. There was no way she would be getting on that ship in this dress. Mr. Gibbs wasn't the only sailor who thought women were bad luck on a ship. She needed men's clothes. _No_ , she corrected herself, _I need boy's clothes. A man can grow facial hair_.

Immediately, she felt her plan deteriorating into nothingness. Where in the world would she be able to find boy's clothing? Feeling like nothing less than a failure, Elizabeth sank down to the ground, not caring that her dress would be getting dirty. It all seemed so pointless. What good was getting the Letters of Marque if there was no way for her to get to Will?

 _Well nothing good will come from you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, luv_. The voice running through her head sounded suspiciously like Jack Sparrow.

She froze. Voice-Jack was right. She had friends in the town. The lady who lived next to Mr. Brown's blacksmith shop had become something of a friend when Elizabeth would go and visit Will. Mrs. Jessup was a widow who lived alone, her son having been signed with a crew as a cabin boy. There was a chance she could get clothes from her!

Elizabeth stood up with a smile on her face. She had a new plan, and Mrs. Jessup's home wasn't far from the docks. She took off at a run for the older woman's house. There was no time to waste, the merchant ship looked like it would be sailing with the morning tide, and false dawn was already approaching.

Five minutes later, Elizabeth slipped into a side alley that had a gate that led to Mrs. Jessup's small backyard. Undoing the latch, she slipped through the gateway, and quietly shut the door behind her. In the faint light from the half-moon, Elizabeth made her way across the small yard to the back door. Testing the handle as quietly as she could, she found it to be unlocked. Elizabeth breathed a prayer of thanks and went inside.

To her great surprise, there was a light coming from the kitchen. Peering around the corner, Elizabeth was shocked to see Mrs. Jessup sitting at her kitchen table, a mug of steaming tea held between her hands.

Hesitantly, Elizabeth walked towards the table, "Mrs. Jessup?" She called out quietly.

Mrs. Jessup's head shot up in surprise, "Miss Swann! I hadn't heard you come in." Visibly flustered, she gestured at an empty chair to her right, "Please, sit down dear. There have been such awful rumors circulating through town regarding you and young William," she said as Elizabeth eased herself down into the offered chair. "I told those who were spreading these rumors that they couldn't be true. I tried to get a hold of your or William, but I never heard anything back." Mrs. Jessup extended a hand out and grasped Elizabeth's clenched hands with her own, "What happened dearie?"

Elizabeth stared into Mrs. Jessup's warm eyes and burst into tears. With great heaving sobs, the whole torrid story came bursting out of her. Getting stood up at her wedding, only to find that her beloved Will had been arrested that morning. Being arrested shortly afterwards herself, and subsequently being thrown into jail; this was followed by Will leaving to hunt down Jack Sparrow. Elizabeth sobbed even harder as she told her friend the horror of being raped, the pain has her innocence was taken from her, and the unclean feeling that has stayed with her ever since. She finished by telling Mrs. Jessup about Beckett's offer of marriage, her refusal, and being branded as a pirate.

Mrs. Jessup was silent for a full minute when Elizabeth finished her story. She sighed deeply, then lifted her head to look at Elizabeth with understanding eyes. "Well then dear, what do you need?"

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Reviews are welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry it's late! Work kept me busy for most of the day, so I couldn't write. Enjoy and, as always, please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own it!

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Elizabeth blinked twice, stupefied. "Need?" She asked weakly.

"You sought me out for a reason, Miss Swann," Mrs. Jessup said, amused.

"It's Elizabeth, Mrs. Jessup," Elizabeth said sheepishly, "And I would appreciate some help."

"Then call me Cecily, my dear," she said with a smile. "Now, what do you need?"

Elizabeth took a breath, "If I could please borrow some of your son's clothes? Pants, shirts, boots if you have them. If not, then I'll just go barefoot."

"Nonsense," Cecily said dismissively, "You can't go barefoot on a ship, you'll tear your feet to ribbons. Josiah left behind some boots that he had outgrown. I'm sure there's a pair that will fit you."

Elizabeth smiled, "Boots as well then. And, um," she began to turn red, "could you teach me how to properly bind my breasts?"

Cecily laughed at the younger woman's embarrassment, "Nothing to be ashamed of dear. Nothing will give you away faster than breasts. Yes, that will be no problem, dear." She got up and gestured for Elizabeth to do the same, "Come upstairs with me, and we'll see what we can find."

She picked up the lantern and walked down the narrow hall towards the stairs. Elizabeth followed her, slightly bemused by how well everything was turning out. They went down another narrow hall and stopped outside a door on the left hand side. Cecily took a breath, as if to steady herself, and opened the door.

It was a small room, with just enough space inside for a single-person bed, a side table, and a wooden chest that took up a good portion of on wall. Cecily looked around sadly; the room was coated in a thick layer of dust.

"Oh my," she whispered to herself, "I should come in here more often, if only to clean."

"When was the last time you came in here?" Elizabeth asked.

"Not since Josiah left." Cecily caught Elizabeth's questioning gaze, "Three months ago. I miss him terribly." She smiled sadly, "That's why I was awake when you came in. I've been worried lately." She crossed the room to the closet and opened the lid. "Now. Let's get you out of that dress and see what fits in here."

Together, the two women got Elizabeth's dress off in record time, and it was tossed onto the bed for the time being. Heavy linen pants were found in a brown color. They were baggy, but fit her slender frame fairly well. A special corset was given to her from Cecily's own closet, one that went from the tops of Elizabeth's breasts to about two inches above her navel. It tied in the back, but the strings were long enough to tie in front. Elizabeth was surprised at the strange corset, and looked at Cecily in confusion.

All Cecily would say was, "I didn't always live in Port Royal."

A white shirt, a long red vest, and brown leather boots that almost came up to her knees completed the look. Quickly, Cecily moved behind Elizabeth and took her hair in her hands.

I'm going to have to cut an inch or two off, dearie." She said with pursed lips, "It's much too long to be a boy's. I'll be right back." She turned and hurried out of the room. A door opened and later shut, and she returned a few seconds later, a silver set of scissors in hand.

Elizabeth was stroking her hair, a slightly mournful look on her face. Cecily understood; a woman's hair was her treasure. But, "It's only a few inches Elizabeth. It'll grow." Cecily worked swiftly and silently, and the only sound in the room was that of scissors snipping and cutting.

"There," Cecily said, "All done. Now, we plait it." Her fingers moved swiftly through Elizabeth's hair, braiding fluidly. "We shall need to think of a backstory for you to get on that ship."

"Oh," Elizabeth hadn't thought she would need one, "I thought they'd be happy for help."

Cecily was shaking her head before Elizabeth had finished speaking, "This isn't a pirate ship you're trying to get on. This is a merchant ship, and merchant ships don't tend to lose their crew that often. The odds are good that the captain won't need another deckhand or cabin boy. So you'll need a story that will earn you his sympathy." She studied Elizabeth's bruised face. "It's lucky about those bruises, although you might not think it." She nodded decisively, "You'll pretend to be a boy – you look to be about…" she thought for a bit, "fourteen or fifteen. We'll go with fourteen, just to be safe – a boy who's running away from a drunk and abusive father. You need to get away, and would they please take you as far as the first port they come across. After that, they can let you go."

Elizabeth grabbed her arm as she passed by, "Cecily… Thank you. For everything. I can't begin to tell you how much this means to me."

Cecily smiled softly, "Think nothing of it dear. It's been my pleasure to be a friend you can trust." She nodded towards the bed, "What would you like to do with your dress? Should I put it somewhere safe?"

Elizabeth shook her head in denial, "No. I wouldn't want something to happen to you if the EITC found it." She smiled thoughtfully, "I'll take it with me. Maybe I can use it to get me where I need to go." She turned to Cecily, "Have you got a rucksack? I'll hide it under a change of clothes."

Cecily beamed at her, "Well thought out dearie. I'll get it for you. Meet me down in the kitchen while I get it."

Elizabeth smiled and nodded her head in acquiescence. As Cecily went to another doorway – probably her own bedroom – Elizabeth made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. Deep inside, she was overwhelmed with contrasting emotions. Excitement over accomplishing a part of her plan, and fear that the rest of it wouldn't be so successful. So deep in thought was the young woman, that it was Elizabeth who was startled when Cecily made her way into the kitchen, a filled rucksack in hand.

"Here," she said as she offered it to Elizabeth, who took it gladly, "I packed it for you. And I added a few other things you'll need once you're alone; a salve for your burn and clean bandages being the biggest thing. Use it soon so you won't get sick."

"Yes ma'am," Elizabeth said as she held the bag reverently. "I'll never forget this Cecily. If there's anything you need, please, let me know."

"I will dear. You'd better get going before the ship leaves without you." Cecily pulled Elizabeth into a tight hug, which was returned just as tightly. "Best of luck to you Elizabeth Swann," she whispered in the young woman's ear, "Godspeed."

Elizabeth smiled in gratitude one last time, then turned and left via the back door. She privately prayed to be able to repay the woman for her kindness.

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The sky was just beginning to lighten by the time Elizabeth made it to the docks. To her great relief, the merchant ship was still there, though her crew was scurrying around the docks and ship to get ready to make sail. She hurried down to the docks, clutching her rucksack tightly to her chest.

She was making her way along the pier when a rough voice shouted behind her, "Boy! What're you doing?" She spun around. A bald, heavy-set man was stalking towards her. He grabbed her by the arm and shook her roughly, "I said, what're you doing here?"

She trembled in fright, "Please sir," she pleaded in a low voice, "I was hoping to speak to the captain of this ship."

"And why would that be, boy?" The man asked sarcastically.

Elizabeth clenched her jaw and tilted her head back to look at the rude man in the eyes, "I want to join his crew."

Nearby men who had heard the exchange laughed at the thought of the scrawny boy working on a ship. But the bald man saw the dark bruises covering the boy's left jaw, cheekbone, and right temple. This boy was no doubt in trouble, and running from something.

He nodded sharply, "Come with me then, boy." He brushed past Elizabeth and walked up the gangplank and onto the ship's deck. Elizabeth had to run a little to keep up, making her feel even more like a child. By the time she caught up to him, he was already talking to a man Elizabeth took to be the captain.

As she approached, both men turned to stare at her at the same time. It unnerved her, so she stopped in her tracks. The possible captain nodded in agreement with something the bald man apparently had said. "I see what you mean Thomas." He came forward to speak to Elizabeth, "My Quartermaster here tells me that you want to join my crew. That true, boy?"

Elizabeth nodded nervously, "Yes sir."

"Have any experience working on a ship? Or know your way about one?"

"I've never worked on a ship, but I've been on them. I've been told I'm a quick study, and I've got to start somewhere, right?" She said earnestly.

"Uh-huh." The Captain looked her over skeptically, "Follow me into my cabin, boy, and you'll tell me your story." He walked towards the stern of the ship where the Captain's cabin and sleeping quarters were. Elizabeth followed him into the cabin, and shut the door at the Captain's gesture. He was looking out the port-side window as the door shut. The Captain was silent for a moment, then turned around to stare intently at her.

"I've got three children; two boys and a wee lass." He said without preamble. "The boys are in their teen years, and the lass just turned ten," he paused.

"Er… congratulations?" Elizabeth said nervously.

"Thank you," he continued on with his narrative, "So in having these children, I've come accustomed to knowing what a young boy looks like. So tell me," he looked at her dead in the eye, "Why are you, a girl, trying to pass yourself off as a boy?"

Elizabeth froze. Her plan was going to fail because of this Captain? Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought, and the sight of them caused the Captain's face to soften.

"Here now lass," he said gently, and sat down at his desk, "What's got you blubberin'"

"I have to leave sir," Elizabeth cried, "I can't stay here any longer."

He nodded in understanding. "Would it have something to do with those bruises on your face?"

"They're from my father, sir." Elizabeth said, wiping her eyes. Maybe her story would work after all. "Ever since my mother died and my brother, Jacob, left to sail, he's been drinking heavily every night. He's been hitting me now for a few weeks. And I could take it, really I could, but…" she hesitated. Should she go further? _Why not_? "I look like my mother, sir, and he tried to go further than hitting me last night." She looked at him with pleading eyes, "I couldn't stay after that, sir, I couldn't."

"No, I dare say you couldn't." The captain muttered, disgusted with a man who could do that to his own daughter. He looked up, "Where do you need to go?"

Elizabeth's heart soared; this was working! "If I could be dropped off at Tortuga, sir, my brother said he would be stopping there around next week in his last letter."

"I won't be able to convince my crew to stop in Tortuga for any reason except necessity and they'll know there's no reason for us to stop there. It's a pirate port, missy."

"But it's also a free port," Elizabeth pointed out, "that's why Jacob stops there. As for the crew, I've got a thought in mind, if you could play along when the time comes."

He studied her for a few seconds, "How old are you girl?"

"I'm seventeen, sir," Elizabeth fibbed.

"Well, you look like you're fourteen, so we'll go with that. And what's your name?" He asked.

Well, there was no harm in it, "Elizabeth."

"We'll call you Edward then, that's close enough." He stood up, "You'll be my cabin boy, not that there will be much for you to do. In the meantime, you'll bunk with the crew, to maintain appearances of you being a boy. You'll also learn the sailing trade from the deckhands. I imagine your brother will appreciate that." He walked to the door and opened it. "Stay here. You'll only be under foot on deck while we leave port. Once we're clear of land and everything settles down, I'll introduce you to the crew. Aye?"

Elizabeth grinned, "Aye, Captain."

 _It worked!_


	4. Chapter 4

I've always felt that the Captain of the _Edinburgh Trader_ had to know Elizabeth was a girl. His comment in this chapter about the stowaway being naked was just so unrealistic, that it had to be misdirection. At least, I've always thought so. But please, enjoy and review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Elizabeth had been introduced to the crew as Edward Cigno. When asked for her last name, she had almost blurted out "Swann", but instead, "Cigno" came out. When her father had said learning Italian would help her later in life, Elizabeth didn't think this was what he had in mind.

Captain Bellamy had told the crew to teach the boy what they knew. "Let's see if we can't make an honest sailor out of him," he said as he gave Elizabeth a hard slap on the shoulder that made her stumble forward. With that introduction, the crew had laughed and proceeded to take her under their wing. That day, she received a crash course in the art of sailing that took up most of the afternoon. By the end of the day, Elizabeth knew how to trim sails and check the rigging to make sure it was tied down properly. She was even allowed to try it herself a few times, and was declared "passable" by one of the Riggers. The job of checking the rigging and sails was dangerous. Elizabeth almost lost her balance several times, but she found job exhilarating. Never before had she felt so free!

That night, Elizabeth almost fell right to sleep. Her hands had blisters, and were bleeding in places. She was exhausted from the day's events and not getting much, if any, sleep the night before. But while she was waiting to be introduced to the crew, Elizabeth had thought of a plan to make the crew want to go to Tortuga.

Once the crew was asleep in their hammocks, and the loud, bullfrog sounding snores started up, Elizabeth rolled quietly out of her hammock. She looked around to make sure no one saw her, and dug her wedding dress out of the rucksack. She gazed at it with sad eyes for a moment, then shook herself out of her stupor. She crept up the stairs to the deck and searched for the night-watchman. _There he is_ , she saw him standing at the port-side bow, staring out at the sea. Elizabeth went to her right instead, and looked around for a place to put the dress. There was a space between a barrel and a crate that would do nicely. Elizabeth stuffed the dress in the space and crept back below and into her hammock. As soon as her head it the cloth of the hammock, she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Elizabeth was told to paint a shellac wax on the railings of the ship, as the wax was starting to wear thin. The shellac would act as a seal and protect the wood from the elements. She was given a bucket of the stuff and a brush, and told to get to work.

 _Let's hope someone finds the dress soon_ , she thought. Painting was incredibly boring work, as she soon found out.

It was almost an hour later, when she was almost done with her work, that Elizabeth saw a sailor run past her with her dress in his hands. She turned her head slightly to watch as he ran up to the Quartermaster and showed it to him. Elizabeth turned back to her painting as the Quartermaster and the sailor started walking in her direction. They stopped to talk to the Bursar, the man in charge of the ship's finances.

The two men argued quietly for a few minutes, tugging the dress back and forth between them. Elizabeth deemed the piece of railing she had been working on as done, and moved further along the railing so that she could hear the conversation. As she did so, more of the crew gathered around to see what was going on. Elizabeth was closer now, and could hear them, but couldn't make out clearly what the two men were saying. The crew was muttering about the presence of the dress. It sounded like the Quartermaster and the Bursar agreed on the reason the dress was there, but were at odds on what to do with it. _A virgin haunting the seas?_ Elizabeth was amused in spite of herself. _They're only half right._

The Captain must have heard the commotion, because he stomped over and pushed his way through the crew shouting, "What's all this?" He stopped and looked between the two men and the dress and said sarcastically, "If you both fancy the dress, you'll just have to share and wear it one after the other." The crew laughed at the two men's embarrassment, and Elizabeth chuckled in appreciation of the Captain's humor.

"It's not like that, sir," the Bursar said, exasperated, "This ship is haunted."

Captain Bellamy nodded mock-seriously, "Is it now?" He turned to look at the Quartermaster, "And you?"

"There is a female presence amongst us here, sir." He looked around at the crew, "All the men, they can feel it."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she continued to paint slowly. _Well, he's not wrong_ , she thought.

The sailor who found her dress pushed his way forward. "It's the ghost of a lady, widowed before her marriage, I figure it. Searching for her husband, lost at sea."

Another sailor piped up, "A virgin too, likely as not. And that bodes ill by all accounts." Elizabeth turned to look at the men.

The Bursar took the dress from the Quartermaster, "I say that we throw the dress overboard, and we hope the spirit follows it."

The Quartermaster lunged for the dress and tried to take it, "No! That will just anger the spirit, sir. What we need is to find out what the spirit needs, and then get it back to her." He yanked the dress towards him.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and smiled as she turned back to her work. _Thank God for superstitious sailors_.

The Bursar and the Quartermaster began to argue again, and play tug-of-war with the dress until Captain Bellamy shouted, "Enough! Enough!" He put his hands on his hips and glared at the two men, "You're a pair of superstitious goats and it's got the best of you." He grabbed the dress himself, "Now, this appears to be nothing more as we have a stowaway on board. A young woman, by the look of it." Elizabeth put her brush in her bucket and looked around nervously, "I want you to search this ship and find her." The crew looked around at each other. "Oh, and, er… she's probably naked."

This got everyone's attention. Heads shot up, clearly interested in finding this potentially naked woman. They scurried over the deck, looking for this mythical woman.

"Cigno! My cabin!" Captain Bellamy shouted from his cabin door.

"Aye, sir!" Elizabeth shouted back. She hurried across deck and into his cabin, shutting the door behind her.

He held the dress up, "This part of your idea, lass?"

She smiled, "Aye, sir. It was my mother's wedding dress. I brought it to save it from being ruined by my father."

He looked at her with appraising eyes, "You're playing on my crew's superstitious nature, are you?"

"Only a little," she murmured with a smile, thinking of Jack Sparrow as she said it.

There was a knock on the cabin door, and Captain Bellamy called for the person to enter. The Quartermaster came in, looking upset.

"No sign of the woman, Captain," he said regretfully, "What would you like us to do?"

"Don't worry about it anymore, Thomas," the Captain said with a sigh, "I suppose it was too much to hope for. Maybe the dress came on our ship by some other means. I'll be leaving it in my trunk to sell at the next port. Carry on with your duties and tell the crew to do the same."

"Aye, sir." The Quartermaster left the cabin, shutting the door behind him.

Captain Bellamy waited a bit before turning to Elizabeth again, "What would you like me to do with the dress, lass?"

"If you could just leave it someplace I can get to easily, I'll pick it up tonight. And could I have the first night watch tonight? I don't want anyone else on deck, if I can help it." She requested hopefully.

He nodded, "Done."

* * *

That night, Elizabeth sat on the boom, tying string to parts of the dress and attaching them to two brooms to make a marionette. Her childhood spent with mismatched nannies was beginning to pay off. Once done, she moved up to a platform connected to the main mast that allowed her to stand properly and move around slightly. She could see into the Captain's cabin, and smiled. The Captain and both the Quartermaster and Bursar were inside.

Taking her broomstick marionette, Elizabeth pushed the dress off the platform and let it hang. She practiced for a minute to make sure she remembered how to do it. She did. She swung the dress back and forth until she had the proper momentum, then swung it out to fly past the Captain's window. They must have seen it, because their faces were pressed against the window when the dress came flying back.

It took a moment, but the three men and one sailor came running up from below. The Captain walked forward with a stunned look on his face. Elizabeth moved the dress forward and used one of the broomsticks to point the left arm of the dress at him, then out to sea.

"She wants you to do something," the Bursar whispered.

"She's trying to give a sign," Captain Bellamy also whispered.

When Elizabeth swung the dress of the starboard railing, the Captain and his men ran to the railing to look for her sign. Elizabeth swung the dress back over their heads, almost hitting them, and knocked over a strategically placed lantern. When the men ducked to avoid the dress, Elizabeth yanked upward on the strings, and pulled the dress up to her platform.

Captain Bellamy pointed to the port railing where he had last seen the dress, "Over there! Look for a sign!" They all ran over to the rail and peered over the edge.

Elizabeth watched them from above in frustration. She sighed irritably and rolled her eyes at the men. _Idiots_ , she thought. She threw down her broomsticks in frustration, and slid down a rope to a nearby crate, ignoring the supposed "signs" the men were seeing.

"What's that over there," she called out in her deeper "boy" voice. The men came over slowly to see, in flaming letters:

Tortuga.

* * *

Author's Note: Next chapter will be in Tortuga, where she'll see Jack and Norrington!


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: So sorry about the late update! I found out that I can't write over the weekends, so expect updates Monday-Friday. This is an extra-long chapter to make up for it. Enjoy!

* * *

The _Edinburgh Trader_ arrived in Tortuga by noon the next day. Following the "spirit's" obvious desire to go to Tortuga, Captain Bellamy and his very scared navigator plotted a quick stop in Tortuga. Elizabeth had gone to sleep that night with joy in her heart. Her dress was back in her rucksack, and she was one step closer to finding Will.

Once the ship was docked, Elizabeth found herself called into the Captain's cabin one last time. Captain Bellamy was waiting for her at his desk. "I wish you the best of luck, lass." He told her, "That was clever work last night. You even spooked me." He chuckled in appreciation. "Is there anything you need before you leave?"

Elizabeth shook her head with a smile, "No sir. Let me say that I've appreciated all that you and the crew have done for me. I'm sure having to baby-sit a novice sailor is never fun."

Captain Bellamy waved a hand dismissively, "Not at all. We've all been there ourselves. And the crew has enjoyed having you aboard." The sound of the crew gathering outside began to be hearth through the door. Captain Bellamy skirted his desk and escorted Elizabeth to the door. "Best be heading out, lass. And good luck."

Elizabeth left his cabin with a smile on her face, and her rucksack slung over her shoulder. As she made her way to the gangplank, she was greeted by some of the sailors she had worked with. They had heard that "Edward" was leaving, and wished the boy the good luck in his endeavors.

She was touched by their well-wishes, and took the time to thank them or their help. She then walked down the gangplank and onto the dock. The _Trader_ 's crew was unloading some cargo, and she sidestepped them and moved up the dock towards land. Her legs felt wobbly after having been at sea for three days; just long enough to acquire "sea legs" as one sailor had called them. _Maybe that's why Jack walks so funny_ , she thought, _He never is on land long enough to lose his sea legs_.

Elizabeth made her way out of the docks and onto the main street running though the pirate town. She looked around slowly. Will had described Tortuga as a town full of drunks and whores, with fights going on at all times and shouting everywhere. The Tortuga she was looking at was quiet and calm. Fully dressed women with children clutching to their skirts waked the street, stopping in stores and stalls, doing their daily shopping. It gave her hope that she would be able to sell her dress.

Elizabeth walked down the street, peering into store windows until she came across a store with dresses in the window. The dresses were of a better quality than one would expect to find in a pirate town. It would be the perfect place to sell this dress and get some money.

She pushed open the door to the shop, and walked in. A window was open in the back, letting a cool ocean breeze drift in. The proprietress was busily sewing lace onto the sleeve of a dress, and looked up when Elizabeth walked in.

"Yes, boy?" The woman asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Oh." Elizabeth had forgotten for a second that she looked like a boy to most people. She took her hat off. "Sorry ma'am. I forgot I was in boy's clothes. I need to sell a dress, if I may."

The owner looked her over critically, and then her face softened. "Runnin' from trouble, are ye lass?" She put her sewing down and came over, "A dress you said?"

Elizabeth nodded, and decided to keep with the lie she had told Captain Bellamy, "Yes ma'am. It was my mother's wedding dress. It's still in good condition," Elizabeth dug in her bag and pulled it out to show the woman, "See?"

The proprietress took the dress in hand and looked it over with a critical eye. "Very well made, good-quality silk, and beautiful embroidery." She looked hard at Elizabeth, "You sure this was your mother's?"

Elizabeth adopted a mournful look, "It was the only thing I had left of her. I made sure to take very good care of it."

It was beginning to worry her how well she lied to others as the woman's eyes softened in pity, "I had to ask. Sometimes I'll get girls in here who have stolen dresses from other shops. I refuse to sell stolen goods, contrary as it may be in a pirate town." She looked thoughtfully at the dress, "I'll give you five pounds for it."

Elizabeth frowned, "Eight pounds. The silk alone -"

"Six pounds then, and not a shilling more." The owner said firmly. "There's some damage to the lace, and some stitching that will be needed before I can sell it."

Elizabeth nodded, "Done."

* * *

Elizabeth walked out of the dress shop six pounds richer and an urge to go shopping. The first item on her list was a sword. If she were going to go after Will, she was going to encounter pirates. And if she was going to encounter pirates, she needed to be able to defend herself. Will had spent the past year showing her how to fight, and she was confident that she could hold her own against most opponents. But all the training in the world wouldn't help her with not weapon.

Fifteen minutes later and with a temper that had almost reached a boiling point, Elizabeth found the blacksmith of Tortuga; a man named Bart Jones. The man was not easy to find, and apparently didn't like boys or women if the laughs of the locals were anything to go by. But she would get a sword from this man, and heaven help him if he refused.

The blacksmith's shop was an open forge, meaning she could see inside while standing outside, and could see Bart Jones himself hammering away at a hunk of iron. He wasn't very tall, only about 5' 5" or so. He looked to be in his sixties, and the years had given him a round belly and grey hair. The hair was thinning in the back of his head, but thick and bushy on his face in the form of a large beard.

She watched him for a moment, always pleased to watch a master at work. And he is a master, she thought, looking at the swords on display. Elizabeth's gaze was caught by one sword in particular. It was slightly shorter than the rest, and had no fine inlays or decorations, but to Elizabeth, it was the most beautiful sword she had ever seen.

"Go away, boy," the gruff voice of the blacksmith startled her, "I don't sell swords to boys who can't use them right."

"What about a woman who can?" Elizabeth challenged.

He scoffed, "I'll believe that when I see it, missy."

"Then how about a deal," Elizabeth said as inspiration took her. "You fight me; you win, and I walk away without complaint. But if I win," she gestured to the sword she had mentally chosen, "I get this sword."

"Harrumph." Jones looked at her suspiciously, "You must be pretty confident in your abilities, girl."

"If I wasn't, then I wouldn't have challenged you." Elizabeth pointed out. "What do you have to lose?"

His eyes took on an amused glint, "Alright girl, I'll play your game. First to disarm wins, and no cheating. If you lose, you lose. Fair?"

She nodded, "Fair. Have you got something with which to fight?"

Jones gave her a dirty look and walked towards his forge, muttering something about women never being ready for anything. He came back holding two, slightly rusted swords. One was tossed to Elizabeth, and he kept the other for himself. The two stood facing each other. Elizabeth spun the sword a few times, getting a feel for the blade. It felt strange in her hand, and a little unbalanced, but otherwise serviceable. She took a ready position and waited.

The blacksmith swung first, and she blocked it, surprised by the speed of his attack. She counter-attacked, and the fight was on. Elizabeth wasn't sure how long they fought; she wasn't even sure how she would win. The blacksmith was by far the best fighter she had faced, beating Will by a long shot. It was all she could do to keep pace with him.

They spun and moved around the front of the blacksmith's shop. Elizabeth as vaguely aware of a crowd beginning to gather around them. Back and forth the two fighters went. Elizabeth was beginning to tire, and her right arm was throbbing where her brand was. She blinked sweat and dust out of her eye, and that was when he struck. Using a move she had never seen before, he got the tip of his sword into her hand-guard, and ripped the weapon out of her hand.

Elizabeth stared shocked at her empty hand. Then her gaze fell to the sword that had fallen to the ground with devastated eyes. There it was: her only hope of getting that sword was laying there in the dust. She registered the cheering of the crowd that had gathered around them, but ignored it.

She met the blacksmith's gaze, and nodded at him. "Thanks for the chance, sir. I'll be leaving you alone now." She turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Jones' voice called out from behind her.

Elizabeth turned around in surprise. The blacksmith was coming towards her with a huge grin on his face. Surely he isn't going to gloat, she thought wildly.

"Come into my shop with me," he said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Have a drink and talk with me for a moment." He escorted her into his shop. Elizabeth shrugged off his arm, and followed him. He pulled out a wooden chair for her, and took another for himself. A bottle of rum was on the table. It was offered to Elizabeth, who shook her head with a slightly disgusted look on her face. Jones shrugged and took a healthy swig of the drink himself.

He sat back and his gaze met Elizabeth's, "I've only ever had one person fight me as well as you did, Miss -"

"Elizabeth Swann," she answered, deciding that her real name would have no meaning here.

He nodded, "And it'll be Bart for me, Miss Swann. As I was saying, only one other person has ever come closer than you have to beating me, and he was twenty-two at the time. He made much the same deal you did, and when he lost to me, I told him the same thing I'll tell you: To be gracious and honest in defeat is a bigger sign of strength than beating your opponent. Miss Swann, by willingly accepting your loss, and by not cheating when you knew you were weakening, you have earned my respect. For that, you may take the sword you wanted, with my congratulations."

Elizabeth stared at him in shock, "You're just going to give the sword to me?"

An eyebrow was raised, "Yes."

She shook her head, "I can't accept that. How much is the sword worth? I can pay for it." She reached into her rucksack for the newly acquired money.

"I'll not accept money for the sword, lass. But," he held up a hand to still her protest, "if you were wanting to buy a baldric from me, I'm sure the price will settle your mind."

Elizabeth settled back into her seat, "Fine," she said, then leaned forward eagerly, "Can you show me that move you beat me with?"

He threw his head back and laughed, "Sure thing, missy. Come on."

* * *

Three hours later, the sun was going down, and Elizabeth was reclining in a wooden chair, pleased with the success of the day. For the better part of two hours, she had drilled with Bart over the disarming technique he had used on her. It wasn't until she had done it right ten times in a row that he let her rest.

"Hey Bart," she called out to the blacksmith. He was back to hammering out a new sword. "Who was it that won a sword from you. The one you mentioned earlier."

"Eh?" He looked up from his work and stared at her in confusion before her question registered with him. "Oh. Last I heard, he had won the ship that he had lost back. Another ship that came in yesterday said he had seen the _Black Pearl_ on a course to land here sometime this evening."

Elizabeth, who had been balancing on the back legs of her chair, lost balance, and fell over backwards at this news. "Jack Sparrow?" She gasped as she pulled herself up. "Jack Sparrow is the one who won a sword from you?"

"Isn't that what I just said?" Bart went back to his work. "I take it you've met him?"

"I helped him get his ship back," she murmured.

Bart stopped working again, "That was you? High-born, governor's daughter who burned all the rum?" Her stared at her in astonishment.

Elizabeth glared at him, not sure if she appreciated his description of her, "Yes."

Bart busted out laughing. He laughed so hard that he had to hold on to the stone hearth to stay on his feet.

Elizabeth was not amused. "If you could find it in your heart to share what's so funny, it would be much appreciated. Especially since you're laughing at me."

He finally stopped laughing, "Not at you," he wheezed, wiping his face with a handkerchief, "At Jack. I could tell something had him vexed last time he visited, but he wouldn't say. Gibbs told me later, when I asked, that you were "Mad like Jack." I didn't know what he meant until now." Bart walked over to Elizabeth and looked her dead in the eyes. "Only someone who thought like Jack would have even thought to fight me for the sword. I've turned down plenty of people away, and they've all left, willingly or no. You and Jack are the only ones who have challenged me."

Elizabeth felt uncomfortable, "I'm not like Jack. Not even close."

"No?" Bart raised an eyebrow, "Let me see your arm, Liz."

Cold fear tore at her heart. As much as she knew someone would see the brand eventually, she didn't want it to be Bart. She didn't want to be judged for being a governor's daughter turned pirate. She looked at Bart pleadingly, but relented when he looked at her with an uncompromising stare. Bart took her right hand in his and began to unwrap the dirty bandage. Elizabeth had never found time or privacy to clean the pirate brand, and was worried at the potential state of the wound. She turned away, unwilling to look at it.

The last strip covering the brand was pulled away, and Bart let out a muffled, "Christ." Elizabeth looked down in spite of herself, and felt herself grow dizzy. The "P" was oozing and pus-filled. Inflammation was apparent around the burn, and the skin was hot to the touch when Bart put his hand near it.

"Good God, Elizabeth," he whispered in shock, "Doesn't this hurt you?"

"Only when you touch it," she hissed in pain as he probed the area.

"When was this done?" He got up and went to a cabinet near the hearth.

"Umm," Elizabeth thought for a moment, "Four days ago." Had it really only been four days?

"Bugger." He rifled through some jars in the cabinet and found what he was looking for with a muffled, "Aha!" Bart turned back to Elizabeth and sat down.

"I have some medicines in my bag," Elizabeth offered.

He glared at her as he stood up to get it, "Then why haven't you taken care of this before?"

"There was never time. And I was on a ship with merchant sailors. They would never have let me on board if they had seen it."

"Better that than what's happened to your arm!" Bart shouted. Elizabeth flinched and looked down, shame-faced. Bart signed and picked up Elizabeth's bag from near the door. "Do you know what will happen if that burn isn't treated?" She shook her head, a little afraid." Gangrene. And when gangrene sets in, you lose your arm." At her white face and tear-filled eyes, his voice softened and he said, "Always take the time to treat your wounds. You never know when you'll be able to treat them, and it could mean the difference between life and death."

The next few minutes were silent as Bart dressed Elizabeth's brand with a mixture of the salve Cecily had given her, and a jar of honey that he had pulled out of his cabinet. She contemplated what he had said while he wrapped her arm in a clean bandage.

"You're right, Bart," she whispered. "You're right, and I'm sorry. If there is a next time, I'll make sure to tend my wounds right away."

"It's alright Lizzie," he said. "Anyway, I was saying how you and Jack were a lot alike. It's more than just the brand, you know. From what little I know of you, you seem like someone who is stubborn and strong in her beliefs. You long for adventure, and once you got a taste of it, have felt stifled in your home life. You've done what's expected of you your whole life, but now, you want something more. The person who's given you this brand, he's done that for your, whether that was his intention or not. He's given you the freedom to make your own choices."

Tears streamed down Elizabeth's face. Her mind was numb with shock. As much as she would like to deny it, Bart was right. The truth of it devastated her entire being.

"Don't dwell on it now, Liz." Bart's voice penetrated the emotional fog that surrounded her mind. "I only meant to say that you and Jack are alike in that you both desire freedom. After all, that's what a ship is."

Elizabeth nodded, remembering what Jack had said in what she thought was a drunken stupor on a deserted beach. _What a ship is, what the_ Black Pearl _really is, is freedom_. "Something to think about later," she mumbled.

Bart dipped his head in agreement, "Later. For now though, in two days or so, if the brand is not any better, have someone clean out the pus and put another bandage on it. If you're here, then I'll do it. If you're on a ship, say the _Pearl_ for example, have the ship's surgeon do it."

"And where would I find the Captain of said ship, if he were in port?" Elizabeth asked as she slung her rucksack over her shoulder.

"Eh, he should be in the Faithful Bride, the more popular tavern in Tortuga. Most times he goes there when he docks." Bart looked at her and smiled. "Good luck Lizzie. Be safe."

Elizabeth surprised herself and him when she ran up and gave Bart a big hug. "Thank you so much," she whispered, "for everything." She pulled away and walked to the door. "I promise to come back and see you," she told him from the door frame.

"I'm counting on it," he told her as he began to turn back to his blacksmithing.

Elizabeth smiled as she made her way down to Tortuga-proper. She could see the ships docked in the harbor, and felt a thrill of excitement go through her when she saw a ship with black sails moored there. _It won't be long now_ , she thought. _I'll find Jack, who will lead me to Will. And then we can figure out what to do about Beckett._

* * *

Author's Note: So, in case some of you are wondering. Six pounds in 1720 (which is around when I figure POTC takes place) has a value of about $1200 USD. I feel that's an appropriate amount for a wedding dress of the day. Also, Elizabeth's burn description is that of a light 3rd degree burn. And honey was used heavily in the not so recent past as an anti-bacterial agent. It's still used in some hospitals today, when modern antibiotics don't work on a patient.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Late again! Sorry to all who've been waiting, but this week's been rough on me. Hopefully there will be no more weeks like this, and I can write more during the week. This chapter's where it starts to turn from the movie's story-line. Elizabeth's going to be a little more intuitive than she was in the movie!

Disclaimer: I don't own it!

* * *

The Tortuga that Elizabeth returned to was much more like the one Will had described to her than the one she had entered earlier that day. It seemed that when the sun went down, the crazies came out. Even dressed as a boy, Elizabeth felt nervous walking down the street. She weaved in and out of drunks, prostitutes, and belligerent thugs trying to start fights. As she passed through the town center, she stopped and stared as a tied up man was hoisted up out of a well, spewing water out of his mouth.

Shaking her head at the bizarre scene, Elizabeth made her way down the street. There was a crowd in the doorway of one establishment. The sign above it depicted a smiling bride holding a bouquet in her manacled hands: The Faithful Bride. _Well it certainly is popular_ , she thought. A gunshot was heard inside, and the crowd in the doorway began shouting and fighting each other. The sounds of glass breaking and more fighting came from inside the tavern.

Elizabeth pushed her way into the tavern and quickly scanned the main room. Her eyes landed on a dirty, and clearly drunk, James Norrington. _What the devil is he doing here?_ She thought wildly. Noticing the fighters beginning to converge on him, she drew her new sword and charged into the fray. She blocked and parried, working her way to James, who had somehow found the time, in the middle of a battle, to drink from a rum bottle.

The fight carried on. Elizabeth threw a man against a support beam and punched him in the face with her sword pommel. Elizabeth continued to defend herself against drunks until, ultimately, she found herself backing up against the support beam facing down men with swords.

"Come on then! Who wants some?" James shouted from the other side of the beam. "Form an orderly line, and I'll have you all, one by one. Come on, who's first?"

Elizabeth saw the eager anticipation in the crowd's eyes, and thought quickly. Seeing a rum bottle in James' hand, she grabbed it and smashed it over his head, knocking him out and on to the floor.

"I just wanted the pleasure of doing that myself!" She shouted to the crowd. They roared with approval, and picked James up, carrying him out the back door. Elizabeth followed and arrived in time to see them toss James face-first into a pile of mud and pig excrement.

Elizabeth knelt down by his prone form, and grabbed him by the shoulders. "James Norrington." He lifted his head up and looked surprised to see her. "What has the world done to you?"

The answer came from mud-covered lips, "Nothing I didn't deserve." He began to push himself out of the muck, and Elizabeth rushed to help him stand.

She looked up at him, "I am so sorry, James."

He shook his head morosely, "It's not your fault."

"But –"

"You didn't tell me to become obsessed with chasing down one pirate, when there were other pirates to hunt. You didn't force me to chase Sparrow across the ocean, try and sail through a hurricane, and lose my ship and crew to my own stupidity." He sighed and rubbed his face, "No, Elizabeth. The fault is entirely my own."

"You're a good man, James." Elizabeth told him, "No matter what you think." She tugged on his arm to make him follow her. "Come with me. I need to talk to Captain Sparrow."

James groaned, "Why him?"

"Because he knows where Will is," she said.

"And where has your dearly beloved husband gone off to?" Norrington asked snidely.

"He's still my fiancé," she said shortly. "Our wedding was interrupted by Cutler Beckett. We were arrested –"

"What?" James looked at her in shock.

Elizabeth nodded grimly, "Apparently helping Jack escape led us to being condemned as well. Will was sent by Beckett to find Jack's compass. I'm hoping he found Jack and that Jack knows where he is."

James snorted, "Good luck, then." They reached the docks and started walking down the pier that the _Black Pearl_ was moored on.

Elizabeth spotted Jack walking down the pier with Mr. Gibbs, and walked faster to catch up to him. "Captain Sparrow!" She called out.

He glanced over his shoulder and said without stopping, "Come to join me crew, lad? Welcome aboard."

"I've come to find the man I love," she said, ignoring James' snort of laughter.

Jack stopped in his tracks. "I'm deeply flattered, son, but my first and only love is the sea." He made a gesture to Gibbs that she couldn't see.

James leaned over a nearby barrel and vomited violently into the harbor, which Elizabeth ignored as she said dryly, "Meaning William Turner, Captain Sparrow."

Jack spun around, and both he and Gibbs looked at her in surprise. "Elizabeth?" Jack asked incredulously. He turned around to Mr. Gibbs, "Hide the rum," he said, and turned back around to Elizabeth. "You know these clothes do not flatter you at all. It should be a dress or nothing. And I happen to have no dress in my cabin." He finished with a smile as he gestured towards his ship.

"Jack." Elizabeth looked down at the ground then up at him, "I know Will cam to find you. Where is he?" She asked desperately.

Jack sighed unhappily. "Darling, I am truly unhappy to have to tell you this, but…" he waked forward to stand in front of her, "through unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that had nothing whatsoever to do with me… poor Will has been press-ganged into Davy Jones' crew." He leaned back as if expecting an angry outburst from Elizabeth.

She looked at him uncomprehendingly, "Davy Jones?" _And it had nothing whatsoever to do with you, huh?_

James threw up a bit more behind them, and stayed hunched over a barrel, "Oh, please. The Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_?"

Jack peered closely at him, "You look bloody awful. What are you doing here?"

"You hired me," James said condescendingly, "I can't help it if your standards are lax."

"You smell funny," Jack said childishly.

"Jack!" Elizabeth drew his focus back to her, "All I want is to find Will."

He dithered for a moment before stopping and looking at her strangely, "Are you certain? Is that what you really want most?"

She looked at him like he was an idiot, "Of course."

He dipped in acknowledgement, "Because I would think, you would want to find a way to save Will most." Jack began escorting her towards the _Pearl_.

Elizabeth looked at him suspiciously, "And you'd have a way of doing that?" She rather doubted it.

"Well… there is a chest," Jack began.

"Oh dear," Norrington interrupted.

Jack gave him a sharp look, "A chest of unknown size and origin." Pintel and Ragetti came up from behind Jack, carrying a crate between them.

"What contains the still-beating heart of Davy Jones," Pintel chimed in.

Ragetti mimed pulling out his heart and made his hand contract like a heart pumping, "Thump-thump. Thump-thump."

Elizabeth stared at them in shock. _What are they doing here? Shouldn't they be in jail or dead?_ She opened her mouth to ask, but was cut off by Jack.

"And whoever possesses that chest possesses the leverage to command Jones to do whatever it is he or she wants. Including, saving brave William from his grim fate."

James came up to them and looked at Elizabeth incredulously, "You don't actually believe him do you?"

Elizabeth actually found herself believing him. But, "How would we find it?"

Jack smiled, "With this," he held up his compass and opened and closed it quickly. "My compass… is unique."

"Unique here having the meaning of "broken."' Norrington interrupted again.

Jack gave him a small glare, "True enough." He went back to Elizabeth, "This compass does not point north." Norrington went to the side of the pier and vomited again.

"Where does it point?" Elizabeth asked Jack.

He gave her a smug smile, "It points to the thing you want most, in this world." His eyes flickered down and back up her body so quickly she barely noticed it.

She shook her head in disbelief, "Oh, Jack." She smiled, amazed at the thought that this could really happen. "Are you telling the truth?"

"Every word, love." He told her, and put the compass in her hand. "And what you want most in this world, is to find the chest of Davy Jones, is it not?"

"To save Will," she clarified.

He nodded, glad she got it, "By finding the chest of Davy Jones." He opened the lid of the compass for her and stepped back quickly.

Elizabeth stared, fascinated, at the compass as the arrow swung back and forth between Southwest and Northeast, before settling on Northeast. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack's head rise up to look at the arrow.

"Mr. Gibbs!" He called.

Gibbs came down the gangplank, "Captain?"

"We have our heading," Jack said triumphantly.

"Finally!" The first mate crowed. He turned to the crew and shouted, "Cast off those lines! Weigh anchor and crowd that canvas!"

Jacked turned to Elizabeth, "Welcome aboard, Miss Swann." He bowed and waved towards the _Black Pearl_.

She stepped onto the gangplank and walked up to the ship. A thought struck her as she reached the deck, and she turned around to ask Jack, "Where will I be sleeping? With the crew?"

Jack stopped and stared at her incredulously, "No, no, and definitely not." He ran up to her and helped her onto the deck, "Unfortunately, I have no private cabins that are not already being used, and good luck getting one of those owners to give it up, even for a woman such as you are. So, you have two options, Elizabeth." Jack stood in front of her, "First," he held up one finger, "You can string up a hammock in my cabin. This will guarantee you both some privacy and a silent room. And second," he held up a second finger and grinned roguishly, "you can sleep in my quarters." Jacked leaned in close, "In my bed."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, "And what's to stop you from taking advantage of me while I'm asleep in your cabin?"

He looked insulted, "Luv, I would never take a woman against her will." She couldn't tell if the hurt look on his face was genuine or not, then decided for genuine hurt.

"No, you wouldn't." She agreed, then said, "But you would lie to one, wouldn't you, Jack?" She smiled sweetly, "Let's go into your cabin, and discuss exactly how you've been lying to me."

Jack grinned nervously, "Me, lie to you? I would never do such a thing."

Before Elizabeth could say anything in reply, Gibbs came running up and addressed Jack, "Captain, we're ready to cast off."

"Excellent, Mr. Gibbs." Jack looked elated at the interruption, and looked back at Elizabeth, "Could I have another look at the compass, Miss Swann?" She glared at him, but opened the compass and watched the arrow swing to the northeast again.

"Elizabeth, I'm going to have you go set up your hammock while we get on our way." Jack started up the stairs to the helm. Elizabeth rolled her eyes in frustration, but asked Gibbs where an extra hammock would be. The galley, was the answer, and she went below to get one.

Hammock in hand, Elizabeth entered Jack's cabin, and froze. She hadn't been in here for over a year, when it had been Barbossa's cabin. When he had stolen her from Port Royal and forced her to dinner. The experience had left her with nightmares for a few months. The nightmares had gone some months ago, but Elizabeth hadn't realized how much being back on this ship would spook her.

A hand gripped her shoulder, and Elizabeth jumped and shrieked in fright. She spun around to see Jack with a startled look on his face. "Something the matter, love?"

Elizabeth tucked a curl behind her ear with a shaky hand, "I haven't been here in a year." She smiled, embarrassed. "It doesn't bring back the most pleasant of memories."

"Barbossa didn't do anything to you, did he Elizabeth?" Jack's face was more serious than she had ever seen it, even when he killed Barbossa on Isla de Muerta.

"No." _Does he really care that much? He looks like he would like to kill Barbossa all over again!_ "He just frightened me badly, that's all." God, she sounded like a child. "Don't tell me you care, Jack." She smiled somewhat impishly.

There was that look again, and something in his eyes scared her a little. "Never doubt it, luv." Jack's expression cleared and he smiled charmingly, "Now, how 'bout we get that hammock set up and you off to bed, eh?"

Her eyes narrowed, "Don't think I've forgotten our discussion, Captain Sparrow."

"Discussion?" He adopted a confused look. "What discussion?"

"You lied to me about how Will got on to the _Flying Dutchman_ ," she accused him.

"I did not," Jack said defensively, "He was, in fact, press-ganged into Jones's crew. I even tried to get him released, you can ask anyone that was there."

Elizabeth shook her head, "I'm not disputing that. What I am disputing is your involvement, or lack thereof, in him being press-ganged."

Jack looked a little alarmed, "What?" He squeaked.

She raised an eyebrow, "'A series of circumstances that had nothing whatsoever to do with me'?" Elizabeth shook her head, "You're not that good a liar, Jack."

He grimaced in defeat, "What do you want then?"

"I want an honest answer to how Will got on that ship." She thought for a second, and added, "Now."

"You're not going to like the answer, darling," Jack warned her.

"I don't care," Elizabeth said firmly. "Tell me."

Jack sighed and fidgeted before squaring his shoulders, looked Elizabeth in the eye and said, "I sent young William on a wrecked ship that I knew Davy Jones would visit. He is to find the key that will open Davy Jones' chest. That way, once I get said chest, I can barter both my freedom, and young Will's."

Elizabeth was outraged. "You-! You-!" She couldn't seem to find the words to express her fury. "You _sent_ Will to be captured for a key? Did he seriously agree to this?" Her expression said she rather doubted it.

"Yes, he did," Jack seemed happy to add, "I told him that when he gave me the key, I would give him my compass so that he might save you from a potential hanging." He took the hammock from her before she could hit him with it. "Now," Jack walked to an area next to the window at the stern. "This is going to be the best place to hang your hammock, so get to." He waved at her to move out of his way, and walked to the other side of the cabin.

"And what will you be doing?" Elizabeth asked angrily.

"Me?" Jack stood in front of a tabled covered in maps. "I'm going to try and figure out where we're going."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: So this chapter's going to be mostly from Jack's POV. And he's finally going to have a conversation with Norrington! Enjoy!

* * *

Isla Cruces. The chest was on Isla Cruces.

Somehow, it didn't surprise Jack that his continuous run of bad luck was taking the _Pearl_ to the plague island. Jack didn't consider himself a superstition person – certainly,  he didn't dance around when the Black Spot appeared on his palm – but something about the island made him nervous.

When he considered it further, Jack supposed it made sense for Davy Jones to bury the chest there. Legend told of plague, brought on by the Church of England, wiping out the population. The priest who buried all of his flock went mad and hanged himself. Since then, nobody had gone near the small island.

"So I'll have to take my chances with the ghosts or become a ghost myself," Jack murmured to himself as he stared at the map on the table in his cabin.

He glanced over at Elizabeth's sleeping form and frowned thoughtfully. There was something in her eyes that he had noticed earlier that night. It was as if a light had gone out, and he shuddered to think at what could have caused it. The whelp had said she was in prison…could that have caused it? Jack had been in prison several times, had seen what could happen to women in those cells: the torture, the r… He shook his head to stop that train of thought. _She's the governor's daughter, you idiot_ , Jack scolded himself, _There's no way she would have suffered anything more than sitting in a jail cell. The girl's just missing the whelp_. Jack nodded his head in agreement with his thoughts, _Yes, that's it_.

Feeling better now that he knew what was wrong with her, Jack quietly made his way out of the cabin, and on to the main deck. He sauntered to the port-side rail and gazed out over the ocean. The glow of the moon gave the ocean an otherworldly feel. The water looked to be a very dark blue, almost black. Jack breathed in the salt air, the tar from the ship, and the faint smell of rum: the scent of freedom. This time of night was when Jack truly felt at peace.

That peace was shattered very quickly. "So where are we going?" The former Commodore stepped up next to Jack.

Jack looked at him quizzically, "Shouldn't you be abed?"

"I wanted to talk with you, Captain Sparrow," Norrington said wryly. At Jack's baffled look, he continued, "I have not been the lowest ranking person aboard a ship. Always have I been an officer, never a deckhand." He paused, looking down uncomfortably.

Jack wasn't sure if there would ever be a time when he would see the former Commodore look so ill-at-ease. "Mr. Norrington," the man grimaced at the title, but kept silent, "All you have to do is follow the orders of myself and Mr. Gibbs. Simple as that."

"Yes, I know that." Norrington said impatiently. "It's that I have to follow your orders." Ah. "I at least remember Mr. Gibbs from his Navy days, but from what little I know of you, I can't imagine you doing anything competently in your life. Let alone captaining a ship properly."

"So it's just a matter of my qualifications, is that it?" Jack asked testily. "Is my not being named a Captain good enough for you?"

"You were mutinied upon, Captain Sparrow," Norrington pointed out, "It's hardly a mark in your favor."

"I was mutinied upon because Barbossa was a greedy bastard, and thought he knew better than me." Jack said with some asperity. "Not because I was a poor Captain."

"Humor me, please." That last word sounded like it hurt the former Commodore to say, and Jack relished in it for a moment.

Jack leaned his hip against the railing and crossed his arms as he looked at Norrington. "Why should I tell you, a man who has made the last year incredibly difficult, something very few people know?"

There was no good reason for Jack to tell him anything, and both Jack and Norrington knew it. Jack smirked at the other man, and looked out over the ocean. "Truth is, Mr. Norrington, that we are rather a lot alike." Norrington looked rather displeased to be told this, and Jack continued, "We're both men of the sea. And we have a similar background."

Norrington snorted, "I rather doubt that."

"No?" Jack turned to face him with a sly grin. "While you are correct in thinking that I am not a military man, I was not, however, always a pirate." Jack's eyes lost focus for a moment, then cleared. "I was quite proud, at the age of eighteen, the served with the East India Trading Company." Norrington jerked back in surprise, and Jack grinned knowingly, "I know. Who would've thought it, eh?" He continued on, "I served faithfully for five years. Earned captaincy of the _Wicked Wench_ when I saved her and her cargo from pirates." Jack stroked the railing of the _Black Pearl_ with pride.

Norrington noticed the gesture, and put two and two together. "This is the _Wicked Wench_? But she was destroyed –" He cut himself off as he remembered what had happened.

Jack glared across the water, "She was destroyed when I "lost" most of the cargo she was forced to carry." He saw Norrington's questioning look and answered, "Slaves. A hold full of people packed in so tightly they were all but sitting on each other." Jack's hands started shaking in anger at the memory, and he was pleased to see that Norrington looked disgusted as well. "I was able to drop most of them off with a friend of mine. I was on my way to meet another person whom I hoped could take the rest when I was found out."

Norrington was finding it hard to reconcile the man he had met and chased after with the man in front of him. This Jack Sparrow was serious and sober. "The drunken behavior is just an act, isn't it?" He asked.

Jack looked at him in surprise, "No it's not. I'm always drunk. It's the sobriety that's an act." He waved a hand in dismissal when James – when the bloody hell had he started thinking of Norrington by his first name? – looked like he was going to interrupt. "You wanted to hear my story, so no interruptions."

Jack stared out across the sea again, and visibly gathered himself. "Beckett, the head of the West Africa division where I had sailed from, caught up to me. He knew what I had done, knew how much I loved the _Wicked Wench_ , and declared that I had to be punished for losing his property." Jack growled the last word in anger. A pain-filled look entered his eyes, and James was astonished to watch them mist over. "Beckett ordered the ship destroyed. He had her set on fire, with the remaining African tribesmen, women, and children locked in the hold." Jack bowed his head in anger and grief. "And, to top it all off, he made me watch."

If you had asked James a year ago what he thought was the making of Captain Jack Sparrow, he would have said luck and a lot of rum. This story gave him a different answer.

"How did you get the _Wicked Wench_ back?" He asked quietly.

Jack grinned ruefully, "I sold my soul to Davy Jones to have him bring her back. I renamed her the _Black Pearl_ and never looked back. Until now."

Norrington was quiet for a long time. Jack was thinking about getting a bottle of rum before he went to sleep when Norrington finally spoke up.

"This doesn't change what I think of you, Captain Sparrow," he began. "I still do not like you, and I rather doubt that will change. But," here he gave Jack a nod of respect, "it has made me accept you as a captain."

Jack grinned, "I suppose that's the best I'll get out of you." He hesitated for a moment, and pressed on with his thought, "You know, there's another way in which we are alike."

James raised an eyebrow, "Do tell."

Jack smirked, "We both value our titles. You've flinched every time I've called you _Mr_. Norrington, instead of _Commodore_. Now you know how I felt every time you called me _Mr_. Sparrow." He looked back out at the moon and whispered, almost to himself, "It's not what we are."

Norrington opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a scream from Jack's cabin.

"Elizabeth!" Jack whispered hoarsely. He ran for his cabin with Norrington following close behind. The arrived at the door to Jack's cabin at the same time as Gibbs, who had run up from below.

As Jack fumbled with the keys in his pocket, Elizabeth's cries could be heard getting louder. "No!" She screamed in fear and pain. Jack finally got the right key in the lock as the sound of flesh hitting flesh was heard inside, and a gruff male voice said, "Shut up, you wench!"

Norrington and Gibbs froze in horror, but a wave of calm, cold anger swept over Jack. He knew that whomever was in his cabin with Elizabeth was going to die a slow, very painful death. Jack turned the key and opened the door.

Jack didn't notice much about his upturned cabin as he walked through the door. His gaze swept the room before narrowing on the two figures on the floor. Jack immediately focused on Elizabeth's eyes, which were a combination of terror and relief. The man above her had one hand at her throat, and the other was frozen above his head in preparation to strike her again. Jack didn't know him, but it didn't matter; he would die all the same.

He wasn't sure what his face looked like as he stalked towards the man, but the man's face showed terror, and was frozen in fear. Jack grabbed the man by his filthy coat, and hauled him off Elizabeth's prone form. He spun the man around towards the door where James and Gibbs stood still, and began punching the man with cold efficiency. Carefully placed punches were delivered to the man's ribs, kidneys, liver, and face. Jack didn't care about his bleeding knuckles, or Gibbs telling him to let the man go before he killed him. All he cared about was inflicting as much pain as possible.

Arms wrapped themselves around his waist, and he felt the warmth of Elizabeth's hands against his stomach. Jack stopped beating the man immediately. Jack's hands were still shaking with rage, and his breathing was ragged. Jack was sure Gibbs was saying something as he dragged the bloody and unconscious man out of his cabin, but he couldn't hear anything over the roar in his ears.

The arms around his waist left, and Jack felt cold from the loss. He turned around to see her leaning against the wall of his cabin. Her eyes were wide and quickly filling with tears. _Bugger_!

Jack knelt down in front of her as she began hyperventilating and crying. He took her face in his hands, vaguely aware of Norrington kneeling down beside him. "Breath, Elizabeth," Jack told her as he stared into her panicked eyes. "Elizabeth, look at me." Her eyes stared past him, unseeing. "Look at me!" Jack barked.

Startled, Elizabeth's eyes focused on his. Her breathing was still erratic, but she was focused on him. _Good_. "Jack…" she gasped.

"Listen to me, Elizabeth." Unconsciously, Jack's thumbs began stroking her cheekbones. "I want you to take as big a breath as you can, then hold it. Savvy?"

She nodded her understanding, unable to form words.

"Good. Do it now. Deep breath," Jack breathed deeply with her, "and hold it. That's good," he praised as she held her breath for a few seconds, and then released it, gasping for air. "Now, do it again, darling, that's it." She held her breath for longer this time, before needing to breathe again. Her breathing was calmer than it was before. "One more time, Lizzie. Breath in," Jack watched her go through the steps again, his thumbs still stroking her cheeks. "Good girl." Elizabeth was breathing normally now.

"He… he…" Elizabeth stammered.

"I know," Jack cut her off. "But you held him off until I could get here. You're safe." But a haunted look in her eyes worried him. He realized that his hands were still on her face, and pulled them back quickly. Jack stood up and offered a hand to Elizabeth. She smiled faintly, and grabbed his hand to pull herself up. She hissed lightly in pain from the action, and Jack frowned at her in concern. Elizabeth saw his look and tried so smile it away, but he knew better than that.

"Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. A faint look of shame crossed her face, but was gone before Jack could decipher its meaning. "No," she said quietly, "It's an older injury. It's fine."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Let's see it then." Her left hand twitched towards her right, and she stopped herself from making any other movement, but Jack saw the motion and grabbed her right hand.

Elizabeth tried to pull her hand back, "Jack, let go. It's fine."

He turned her hand over to look at the back of her hand and palm, nothing. Then he noticed a bandage on her forearm, it looked recent. Jack glanced up at Elizabeth's face, and saw panic and shame there. He thought about leaving it, but Jack remembered the lack of spark in her eyes, and the haunted look from a few moments ago, and pressed on.

Norrington looked like he was going to protest Jack's disregard for Elizabeth's wishes, but one sharp look from Jack made him subside. He watched in silence as Jack pushed back Elizabeth's shirtsleeve to reveal the top of the bandage.

"James," Elizabeth said before Jack could remove the bandage. "Could you leave Jack and I alone, please."

"Elizabeth, I don't –" James started to say before Elizabeth interrupted him with, "Please." Her pleading eyes made him give a nod of his head and turn to leave the room.

Once the door was shut, Elizabeth turned to Jack and nodded her head for him to continue. He slowly unwrapped the bandage, dread filling his stomach at what he would find there. Before Jack had unwrapped half the bandage, Elizabeth stopped his hand with hers, and looked up at him.

"Please don't hate me," she whispered pleadingly.

Confused, and more than a little scared, Jack pulled back a section of bandage to reveal a partially-healed "P" branded into her skin.


End file.
